And, besides, things just tasted so bland.
A hoot of laugher outside in the corridor pulled Peyton out of her reverie and she busied herself getting the theatre set up. Grabbing the trolleys she required, she positioned them correctly around the operating table, wiping them down with a solution of surgical spirits before exiting the theatre via the back door to pick up the trays.
Four sterilised trays wrapped in special blue disposable cloth and sealed into a sterile plastic covering were waiting for her and she grabbed the nearest, along with extras of similarly wrapped drapes and gowns. She added two pairs of size-eight gloves for Harry and his resident before returning to the theatre and dropping her load on the waiting trolleys.
Heading out again, Peyton selected other bits and pieces she knew Harry would need – suture material, dressings and, of course, the actual implant device itself.
Turning the boxed bionic ear around in her hands, Peyton still found it hard to believe that something so innocuous could give such a precious gift. That come Monday one would be implanted into McKenzie’s head. She hugged it to her chest, sending a quick prayer into the universe.
Please let everything be okay.
Re-entering the theatre, she dropped the extras on the trolley again. A noise from the anaesthetic room alerted her to Harry’s arrival and she smiled. It was nice working for someone as dedicated as she was. Always early, ready to get to stuck in for the day.
Ready to make a difference.
Peyton glanced at her watch. Now, while they were still alone, was as good a time as any to ask her bossthe question.
She shoved open the swing doors with her shoulder, ready to launch into her spiel. Excited even. Except the man in the anaesthetic room wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t reedy or a littlestooped and grey-haired. He was big and broad with curls of dark hair escaping the confines of his theatre cap to brush the neckline of his scrubs.
Valentino Lombardi.
Even if Peyton hadn’t dreamt about that back every night for the last two months, the lurch low down in her pelvis would have alerted her to his identity anyway. Still, she shut her eyes tight for a moment, hoping that her fevered imaginings of him these past months had just somehow conjured him up to derail her from her quest.
When she opened them again seconds later it was to find him – Valentino,notHarry – looking at her, cool as a freaking cucumber.
What was he doing here? Didn’t he live in London?
A host of memories bubbled up in the silence between them before Peyton could stop them. Memories she’d thus far managed to contain to her dreams. Nightly imaginings that woke her in a sweat, his name on her lips, his taste in her mouth. Parts of her throbbing for his touch.
‘We meet again.’
Peyton’s heart skipped a couple of beats as his low flirty voice oozed into all the places that still craved his touch. Then her cheeks warmed as the things they’d done together turned her awkward beneath his knowing gaze. It didn’t help that he filled out a pair of surgical scrubs better than any man on the planet. She’d seen him in a tux and in the buff and now in a set of scrubs.
Was there nothing the man didn’t wear to utter perfection?
‘Valentino?’ She didn’t mean to whisper it, to give his name some kind of hushed reverence, but it was exactly the way it sounded in the quiet, cool confines of the room.
She’d expected to never see him again and yet, here he was – in scrubs?
Peyton remembered that he was a surgeon but… why was hehere? Inhertheatre? And where the hell was Harry?
Pulling herself together, Peyton cleared her voice. She didn’t know what was going on but she couldn’t afford to betray any of her bodily reactions. ‘Dr Lombardi.’ Her voice was brisk – nothing like his flirty opening line. Peyton had to start as she meant to go on – not let his presence and a bunch of very persistent memories make her forget she was at work. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s Harry?’
The man opposite regarded her for long seconds, a small smile on his mouth– God, where that mouth had been– as if her formality had been amusing. But it soon changed to something more suitable for work.
‘I’m afraid Dr Abbott had to rush to Hobart in the early hours of this morning. His… grandson’s been in an accident.’
Peyton frowned. An accident? She searched the dark gaze that had softened to warm liquorice as he’d broken the news. ‘What kind of accident?’
‘He was kicked in the head by a horse. They’ve rushed him to Intensive Care.’
Peyton gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. Oh, no, howawful. Her concern drove her a couple of steps in his direction. ‘Was it Andy or Ben?’ Harry’s daughter and her family lived on a horse stud just outside Hobart. The Abbotts were a close-knit family despite the distance, and Peyton knew this would be devastating for them all.
‘Ben.’
A cold hand clutched around her heart. Benny was only four. One year older than McKenzie. Peyton moved closer again, needing to know more. ‘How is he? His parents must be frantic. Is he… has he…?’
As if sensing her genuine concern, Valentino crossed the remaining few steps between them and gently clasped her shoulders. ‘He’s critical. That’s all I know.’
